The Number of My Days
by polytene
Summary: Neither of them are the men they used to be. Sebastian and Anders, twenty years later.


He takes the stairs a little slower than he used to. The years have not been unkind to him, and his mind is as sharp as ever, but each year the steps seem steeper and the descent takes longer. He blames his aching knees, and not the dread in his heart. This is the duty he took upon himself, and he will see it through.

The guard nods at his approach. "He is ready for you, Lord Vael."

"How is he?"

She stares at him, flatly. "He remains unchanged since my last report, my lord. I believe the dreams are worse."

"Did he tell you about them?"

A shake of her head. "He does not speak. The screaming is louder," she says, emotionless.

She unlocks the door, touching the runes around the entrance in sequence, and he passes into the dimly-lit space beyond.

He's sitting quietly this time, in the far corner of his cell, the chains between his wrists and the wall hanging limp. They have given him clean clothes and trimmed his hair, but they cannot do anything about the haunted, haggard look in his eyes.

An age passes before the man speaks, voice cracked and hoarse. "Sebastian?"

Sebastian sits on the stool they have placed a safe distance from his prisoner. "Anders," he says, carefully neutral. "How are you?"

Anders laughs, a harsh rasping noise. "Oh, it really is you. When I'm hallucinating you're always less _stupid_. How am I? Why, I've enjoyed another fine year chained up in your basement while you parade your Tranquil guards in front of me and search for answers you're not going to find. How did you think I'd been doing?" He spits out the words, his voice quiet yet bitter. It's easier this way, when Sebastian can recall the angry, dangerous apostate who caused so much pain so long ago, and hate him all over again. Some years Anders is nothing but self-pity and misery, wallowing in his own pain, and Sebastian despises him.

"The Tranquil are the only guards who are able to control you, Anders."

"And you're not short of Tranquil in Starkhaven now. To think I once wished for the Chantry to take a side..."

The Exalted March had been brutal. One by one the Circles had risen up and been defeated, not by skill but by the weight of men the Divine had thrown against them. Sebastian hadn't cared, blind to all but his own vengeance. When the Starkhaven Circle rebelled, the people had been only too glad to put the heir of Starkhaven back on the throne. As the armies of the Divine marched on Kirkwall, their banners proclaiming the glory of the Maker, Sebastian Vael and the armies of Starkhaven had followed.

He had found Anders in the chaos of the battle, cradling Hawke's body.

"The guards say you have nightmares," Sebastian says

"You're all concern this year. You'd have nightmares, if you were me. Or maybe you'd sleep well at night. What's the blood of mages to you? All the deaths in Kirkwall, in Ferelden, in Tevinter, do they weigh on your conscience? Or is it the Maker's will?"

Once he would have argued with him, debated the teachings of the Chantry until Hawke broke in and calmed them both down, but anger is a young man's game, and neither of them are the men they once were. He waits to see if Anders will rant any further, but he says nothing more, and Sebastian turns to leave.

"Wait," says a voice that is not Anders, echoing in the empty cell, and the eyes that meet Sebatian's stare are a bright, shining blue. "I am Vengeance, and I would speak with you."

"I have no words for you, demon," says Sebastian, backing away. He hasn't seen the demon in all the years of these visits, and he'd hoped never to see him again. Not until he has a solution, but that seems as elusive as when he first imprisoned Anders, hiding him away in Starkhaven.

"I would speak with you about the vessel I inhabit," says the demon. "Anders. He is dying."

"In time, perhaps," says Sebastian. "But Anders has many years ahead of him. He'll die down here in the dark."

"No. He feels the Calling."

Sebastian frowns. "The Calling?"

"He remains a Grey Warden. The darkspawn call to him. The taint will consume him."

He remembered the stories, the tight, sad look on Hawke's face on the rare occasions he talked about his brother. "And what will happen to you?"

"I do not know," says Vengeance. "I may return to the Fade. Likely I may remain in this body, even as it decays. The situation is ... unforeseen. But it is clear: you have not found a way to kill me. If you had, I would not be speaking to you."

It was what he'd been searching for since he stayed his hand and kept Anders alive all those years ago. Not out of mercy, for what mercy was it to confine a man alone for twenty years? He had feared that upon the mage's death, the demon would return to the Fade, and worse, that he would not stay there but would find another vessel. Another blood mage to twist with hatred and vengeance, who would bring more death into a land which had seen too much.

He couldn't allow it. He searched for a way to kill the demon, or confine it to this world, but he could find no answers. Researching blood magic without attracting suspicion was difficult, especially under the Chantry's new, harsher laws, and as time wore on he pushed it to the back of his mind. Starkhaven had other problems, the whole world did. And Anders rotted in his dungeon.

"I have not found a solution, that is true. But whether you possess a man or a creature of the Taint makes no difference. In time, I will find the answers I seek.

"It makes a difference to me." Vengeance's stare is unnerving, his eyes seeming to look straight through Sebastian. "The corruption will spread through this body, until it becomes a twisted shadow. It is a slow, painful death." He pauses. " I would not have this occur."

"You wish for a better death?" Sebastian asks. "You said it yourself, may not even die with this body."

"I do not care for myself. I care for Anders. He and I are one, and I would not see him suffer." The demon pauses. "I would offer you a deal."

"I don't deal with demons."

Vengeance continues, undeterred. "If you kill him, I will leave this body, and return to the Fade, and I promise to seek out no new host."

"And if I decline your offer?"

Blue light shines as though through cracks in Anders' skin, Vengeance's voice grows louder, and the Lord of Starkhaven tries not to flinch. "Then I will remain here until this mortal body decays and is no more. And when I return, long after you are gone... your family will know Vengeance."

Sebastian closes his eyes to block out the sudden light, and Vengeance is gone.

"Charming, isn't he?" says Anders. "And protective."

"Is it true? You feel this Calling?" Sebastian asks.

"Yes. I am dying," says Anders. "Slowly, I think. Grey Wardens go to the Deep Roads when they feel it, to die fighting the darkspawn. If they don't make it... I don't know. I don't know what happens." His voice trembles. Anders is barely sane, kept locked away for twenty years with no company but himself and an angry demon, and this is the thought that keeps him awake at night.

"Vengeance. Can I trust him?" Sebastian says, almost without realising what he is considering.

"I think so. I don't think he knows how to lie, unless he picked it up from me." There's a note of hope in Anders' voice. "You'll do it?"

"I'll think it over."

Anders' face hardens back into a familiar sneer. "Great. Maybe next year you'll kill me, when I'm a rotting corpse still chained to this wall."

"I don't have to do anything at all," he says, suddenly angry. "You are one with the demon, you heard its threats. I have two fine sons, who will rule Starkhaven after me. I can seal this room for a thousand years, and they would keep it sealed. Vengeance can stay locked in your bones, and my family would be safe."

"This isn't about your children, Sebastian, or their children's children," Anders says. "Or the mages, or the Chantry, or the Divine Justinia herself. This is about you and me, and Hawke, and how he stayed by my side and you couldn't stand it, but we _lost_, Sebastian. We lost twenty years ago, and he died and you won, and isn't it time you let it go?"

Once he would have left, let indecision rule his actions, and prayed to the Maker for guidance that would not come. Now he trusts his own path, trusts himself enough to admit the truth in what the apostate says. Sebastian slowly lifts the dagger from its sheath, and he sees Anders' desperate, pleading look replaced by something closer to peace.

"May the Maker watch over your soul," he says, as he twists the knife.


End file.
